


Adrift

by Terminallydepraved



Series: Works for Others [66]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game), Dishonored (Video Games)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Crossover, M/M, Mystery, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rating May Change
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-10
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-17 07:41:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29963133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Terminallydepraved/pseuds/Terminallydepraved
Summary: Marked by the Outsider and out for revenge, Connor Arkay travels to Dunwall to discover the true culprit behind his brother's sudden imprisonment.
Relationships: Connor/Gavin Reed, Hank Anderson/Connor
Series: Works for Others [66]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/378145
Kudos: 4





	Adrift

**Author's Note:**

  * For [gildedfrost](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gildedfrost/gifts).



> got another au courtesy of the creative mind of one GildedFrost with me as the vehicle in which it gets written. hope yall enjoy this! were still hammering out the plot and what not, so be sure to keep an eye on the tags and rating as we go along. things may change and i can't say just yet how.

Connor Arkay had been in Dunwall for long enough to know that despite the different window dressings, every single district was just as scummy as the one before it. It didn’t really matter if the buildings were residential or meant for commerce; the same grime coated the cobblestones and, if he looked hard enough, the faces of those he saw all carried the same familiar look of hunger—and not always for food.

Karnaca had her own demons, but Dunwall seemed to spawn new ones around every corner. 

Tonight, the demon he courted took the form of the Estate District at large. He’d already been through her sisters—and hadn’t been all that fond of them either, no matter how many sights there were to see in the Distillery District and along the old waterfront—but he had a good feeling about this. The Estate District held the nobility, and the nobility were the most likely to have what he was looking for.

At least, he desperately hoped as much. 

Connor stood at the foot of a tall building, a residential house that gave his own back in Serkonos a run for its money. The thick cloud cover overhead blocked out any moonlight that might have given the illusion that the stonework had once been white, stained as it was with grime and grit, and the whale-oil street lights didn’t do much to improve the sight. Connor eyed a ledge a few stories up, one that had no light coming from its dark window. He lifted his hand and closed his eyes, a bubble of energy coalescing in his veins.

In the span of one breath and the next, Connor felt his feet leave the floor and touch down against a split second later. A bright flash glinted against his eyelids but was gone by the time he opened them wide. He inhaled sharply, still not quite used to the sensation, and turned around, looking down at the street he’d left far below him. 

Connor exhaled slowly. He squeezed his hands into fists a few times, the slightly draining effect vanishing just as quickly as it had come on. He turned and looked at the balcony door and found it unlatched; of course, no one in this city ever locked their windows or upper doors. They never expected someone to come at them from above, not when the walls were sheer and no footholds to be found. Without a second thought, Connor let himself inside. 

There was little rhyme or reason to his choice tonight. He was still new to the city, relatively speaking, and he’d long since come to the conclusion that spreading as wide a net as possible was the best way to get the lay of the land. He had a gut feeling that the information he most needed was stored within the offices and correspondence of the nobility. In Dunwall, they all seemed to have their fingers in every pie, bribing the city watch like it was going out of style just to make sure their voices were heard. Assassinations, paid thefts, and other unsavory hits were commonplace, and records were bound to be lurking around, so long as Connor had the wherewithal to look for them. 

He was spoiled for choice with this first place, that was for sure. 

At first glance, he couldn’t quite tell whose place he’d broken into. Sometimes it was obvious, sometimes it wasn’t, and tonight it wasn’t entirely clear. There didn’t seem to be anything overly watch-oriented, no medals of honor or certificates on the wall. Connor noted the plush carpet beneath his boots and the expensive scent of incense lilting in the air. Imported, no doubt. Maybe a merchant? A trader? Connor approached the desk and began digging through the mess on top of it.

A merchant would be good, he thought, sorting through ledgers, letters, and manifests. Merchants dealt with Serkonos, and he had a feeling they might know something relevant. Any ships that had recently been to their home port could know something about what had happened, might even have information on the person who carried out the sentencing and stole Nines from his bed while Connor was away. God, that was… 

The beginnings of a headache stabbed the soft tissue behind Connor’s eyes. Exhaustion was a newfound friend he was steadily growing comfortable with. Keeping to his odd jobs for steady pay was one thing, but spending every night searching for information was steadily wearing him down. His hands were clumsy as they carded through the desk’s contents, and his eyes burned faintly as he read the crooked, scrawling script scattered along each and every page. God, this was draining—

But just as he thought it, another image rose up in his mind’s eye. Nines, cold, drawn, pale. It was a vision from a dream, one he’d had every night he spent on the ship that brought him from Serkonos to this gray and miserable place, one he knew was true without even a shred of doubt. Those dungeons were too horrifying to be simply conjured up from his own subconscious, and he’d know the look of his brother anywhere. No matter how miserable he felt, Nines felt worse. No matter how hungry he became, Nines felt  _ worse.  _

Connor’s hands slowed. His lips curled into a frown. He… couldn’t think about that right now. It wouldn’t do Nines any good to fixate on it, not when he needed him to be here now, thinking clearly, hunting for a solution. 

He’d get his brother out of that cell. There was no other option, so that was just how it would have to be.

The details surrounding Nines’s capture were still murky. He’d been framed for  _ something,  _ something bad enough to have him torn from his rooms while conducting business in one of Dunwall’s nicer sides of town. The news had traveled slowly. If it hadn’t been for the dreams, Connor had a feeling he wouldn’t have learned about any of it until it was too late to do something about it. 

Even now, he wasn’t sure what to do about it. He’d been tempted to just break Nines out of the cell. With his powers, his contacts, it wouldn’t be that difficult—only, there was no safety in that. They had lives to live, business to run, and he knew Nines would never forgive him if he did something rash and lost them the security they had spent decades building. Learning who had orchestrated everything was the only option left, and Connor… 

He sighed, rubbing at his tired eyes with a tired hand. He couldn’t stop until he learned the truth and made things right. 

Dropping his hand, Connor filed away his own woes for later. The time for pitying himself had long come and gone. He steeled himself and moved faster, the reminder of his goal spurring his hands on. He sorted through the stacks of letters and books quickly, skimming over the contents, looking for familiar names, for proof that the person in this house had some ties to the watch or the government at large. There was no way the things happening to Nines existed in a vacuum. Someone had to know something about the false charges, and if they knew that, they had to know someone responsible for putting them into effect to begin with. 

Connor wasn’t sure what he was going to do when he learned that little tidbit of information. He had a feeling it wouldn’t be pretty though. He had a feeling it’d be enough to warrant the secrecy and subterfuge, and maybe even beyond that. 

He wouldn’t let them get away with doing that to Nines. He’d make sure they all paid dearly for it. 

A sound outside the study came a clatter, the sound of stockinged feet coming up a creaking staircase. Connor came back to himself in a flash, jolting despite himself. He quickly stepped towards the wall, putting his back to it and hiding in the shadow of the nearest bookshelf. 

A woman’s voice rose up, clearly talking to someone down on the lower floors. Connor listened until he figured it was just her asking when her husband was going to come to bed, and after she got her answer, she retreated to another room, the door closing quietly behind her. Connor let out a breath and moved back towards the desk. Maybe he didn’t have as much time as he would have liked to look through all of this… 

Fuck it. He’d take what he could carry and look over it in his own time. 

Connor began stacking up everything within easy reach, bypassing novels in favor of small ledgers that wouldn’t be too cumbersome to travel with and shoving every scrap of spare parchment between the pages, using them to hold the letters and notes in place. He would have to find a bag or something the next time he did this. It wouldn’t do to drop something that could potentially exonerate Nines. 

The staircase outside creaked again. Heavier footsteps this time, probably the husband heading to bed. Connor made his way to the window, ledgers tucked beneath his arm, and opened the door to the balcony. His heart quickened when the footsteps paused just outside the study. Was he going to come inside—?

The door to the hall swung forward and Connor stopped thinking. He twisted around and looked down at the street below, hand outstretched and the brand on the back of his hand lighting up like a flash. A voice shouted something to his back just as he blinked from the balcony to the ground, hitting the stone street hard and breaking out in a dead sprint. Another shout cut the air behind him, the owner of the house raising the alarm, screaming for the watch, that he’d just been robbed. 

Connor’s heartbeat filled his ears, deafening and cold. A few lights went on in a few windows as he ran. Far away, an alarm sounded. Connor lifted his hand and blinked forward a few more times, cutting across the street, over another balcony, across a roof and down into a back alley. The ledgers under his arm cut into his ribs from the force of his grip. All exhaustion vanished from his body. There was no room for it, not with the adrenaline pumping through his veins.

He went to the rooftops for a while and left behind the area now swarming with guards. He didn’t stop running until he was several blocks away, long after his breath had turned to daggers and tore at the back of his throat. Sweat coated his face and stung his eyes. He tripped over a loose shingle and nearly toppled off the roof, and only a furtive blink saved him from a messy fall onto the cobblestones below.

Still, it wasn’t an ideal landing. There was no real chance to look below, and he realized that quickly; the sound of footsteps hit him the second his boots touched the street.

Without thinking, without having  _ time  _ to think, Connor pressed his back to the building and sank down into a low crouch. There was a dumpster next to him, thankfully, but there was no time to hide inside it. He shifted until he was hidden in the shadow it cast, his dark clothing hopefully close enough to the black to let him blend in. The slow, ambling shuffle of the watch drew closer. Connor held his breath…

...and the watchman passed him without incident. 

The glowing mark on the back of Connor’s hand tingled as it quietly receded back into the matte black of the Outsider’s brand. Connor let out his breath and sighed too for good measure. He’d had these abilities for a few years now, and he still struggled to trust them in moments like these. He’d never been spotted before when he leaned on the mark’s ability to make himself invisible, never fallen from a high tower while blinking to the opposite ledge. The Outsider was a finicky, unknowable sort, but in Connor’s quest to bring justice to Nines, he’d been the most stalwart ally yet.

Connor rose to his full height and took a moment to look at the mark on his hand. He still wasn’t sure what had brought him into contact with the god to begin with—wasn’t sure if he’d ever know for certain. In those void-black eyes, there had to be some sense of purpose. Or maybe there wasn’t. Maybe the only reason Connor was here, mark on hand, whispered communion with the god still ringing in his ears, was because it made things interesting for the eldritch voyeur. 

“You told me to look past Serkonos,” he whispered quietly to the night. “Well, I’m here. Give me something to look at, will you?”

But the world stayed quiet, and Connor couldn’t be surprised. 

**—**

The walk back to the Distillery District was almost bland in comparison to before. It really went to show how the city allocated its resources, putting the bulk of the watch’s forces where the money and wealthy resided while leaving the rest to more or less fend for themselves. Normally, Connor would take offense to it, but for now, with tired feet and hunger gnawing at his stomach, he just took it as a blessing. It was one, as far as he knew, and he’d been bereft of them for long enough to know when to take what he could get.

It wasn’t hard to locate a bar still open late at night, with curfew feasibly in place but the denizens still ballsy enough to disregard it entirely. Connor shouldered open the door and entered into the light, blinking fast as his eyes adjusted. The place was nearly empty, which came as no real surprise. He found a seat at the bar and sagged into the seat. A heavy set woman sidled over to him. The greasy towel over her shoulder signalled her as the barkeep. Connor managed to find a smile for her, but not much besides.

“What’ll you have?”

Connor tucked the ledgers and loot into the seat at his side, half-heartedly covering it with the sweep of his arm. The place was barren and everyone in the bar looked too far into their drinks to give him much attention, so the risk felt low, the potential for overt scrutiny even lower. “Whatever’s hot, and something cold to drink,” he answered, fishing out some coin for her. After a moment’s consideration, he fished for more. “And a spare bed, if you’ve got it.”

She looked him over carefully, but in the end, she accepted his money and gave him a short nod. “There’s a spare room upstairs. I’ll bring you the key after your meal.”

“Sounds perfect.” 

Her smile was tight but still there. She pocketed the coin and turned away, reaching under the bar for a tankard that she filled with ale and set down in front of him. Connor sipped on it as she vanished into the back, ostensibly to see to his meal. He took the time to look around as he waited, noting the old wood grain of the bar, stained from numerous sweaty mugs and spilled drinks. It felt good under his fingertips. The color of the wood was warm, matching the bar as a whole. Despite there being only a few other people scattered around the interior, the place felt lively. He suspected that was just the human element of it all. Most places in Dunwall were abandoned entirely, no semblance of life to be found for blocks around.

Dunwall was so different from Karnaca like that. Here, life happened entirely behind closed doors. Connor sipped the ale, wrinkling his nose a little at how much harsher it tasted than the kind he was used to. They didn’t have much wine here. They had even less sunshine, less laughter, less warmth. Karnaca had her share of problems, but Dunwall seemed to swaddle herself in hers. It was… strange. 

Connor couldn’t help but hope he’d finish his business here quickly; he just wanted to get back home with Nines sooner rather than later.

There were only two other people in the bar besides himself. A good thing, he had to think, if it weren’t for the direction his thoughts were taking. Fewer people meant fewer distractions. Of the ones he had at the ready, he had to think he could do with a few more options. One was an old woman half asleep over her tankard. She was tucked into the corner like she’d long claimed it as her own, and the plate at her elbow boasted some crusts of bread, suggesting she had been there for awhile. She barely looked like she was aware of much of anything. The other person, however, was much more alert.

He was a young guy, comparatively speaking. The dark shadows under his eyes aged him prematurely, but Connor had to guess the man was probably around his own age, if not just a little older. He was rugged and worn, his stubble closer to a short beard given the later hour. His garb drew the eye quicker than anything else about him, and that said something given he wasn’t an unattractive man. 

Connor sat a little straighter and did what he could to block his weapon with the line of his body. After so many close calls tonight and all the nights before, he’d grown an almost instinctual response to the sight of the watch’s guardsmen.

As far as he could tell, the man wasn’t watching him. He wasn’t even paying attention to him, so consumed as he was with draining the tankard in front of him dry. The barkeep appeared out from the doorway, a plate in hand, and Connor tore his attention away from the watchman to take it from her eagerly. So long as the man stayed focused on his drink, things would be alright. There was no need to suspect that he’d been found out or anything; as far as any of these people knew, he was just another traveler in need of some late-night succor.

“Thanks,” he said, earning himself another sharp nod from the no-nonsense barkeep. 

“Finish up and I’ll show you to the room.” She was curt but not unfriendly. She left him to his meal, and Connor eagerly dug in.

As far as food went, it wasn’t great. He’d noticed ever since coming to Dunwall that the food here was as bleak as the weather and decor. The salted whale meat was greasy as it went down his throat, and every so often he had to discreetly spit globules of tough blubber back onto his plate, the mouthfuls too gristly to chew and too big to force down anyway. Connor didn’t let himself complain; he was used to far finer fare, but that was back home in Karnaca. He wasn’t here to enjoy himself. He was here to help Nines, and Nines was enjoying his stay far less than Connor could, no matter how bad the bar food wound up being. 

He’d just about eaten half of what was on his plate when a shadow settled in beside him, taking up the empty chair at his side. Connor did his best not to stiffen. He lowered his fork and turned, and to his horror found the watchman from before perched on the seat, empty tankard in hand as he called out to the barkeep.

“Miranda,” he said, clearly familiar with her. “Get me another, would you?”

“You’ve just about had enough, hadn’t you, Gavin?” she retorted, even as she dutifully filled his cup once more. Her lips took on a judgemental frown. “Aren’t you on duty tonight?”

Gavin, the watchman, grinned slyly. “I won’t tell if you won’t.”

Despite his better judgement, Connor couldn’t keep back the huff of a laugh that tickled his throat. It drew the man’s attention even as he tried to avoid it, but the damage was done. “Evenin’, stranger,” he said casually, like it wasn’t the oddest thing in the world for him to start up a conversation with someone he’d never met before. “Haven’t seen you ‘round these parts, have I?”

Connor pushed aside the rest of his dinner and gave a half-hearted shrug. “I don’t get out much,” he said, wondering if it wouldn’t be better to stay silent overall. 

“Is that right? Well, you picked a hell of a place to change that.”

Down at the other end of the bar, the barkeep, Miranda, snapped, “I’ll knock you on your ass, Gavin. Don’t think I won’t.”

Without missing a beat, Gavin shot her a rude hand gesture. “My case in point proves itself.”

“Do you come here often?”

Gavin glanced at him oddly, as if that had been a stupid question to ask. “Often enough. Why? Looking for suggestions? Sorry to break it to you, but Miranda doesn’t serve anything that isn’t packaged in a can.”

Connor shrugged a little. “I just figured if anyone knew anything interesting, it’d be a member of the watch. You must know this city backwards and forwards.”

Again, Connor wondered if he’d just said something he shouldn’t have. Gavin pursed his lips and took him in from head to toe. “I suppose you could say that. Talking like that though… You’re not from around here, are you? You a tourist? We don’t get many of those this time of year. What brought you here of all places? Did someone lie and tell you the food was good?”

This man was either drunk and conversationally belligerent, or he was suspicious and gunning for some kind of sign. Connor schooled himself, prepared for either case by wrapping his hand around the firm stem of his tankard. “I was just in the area.” It wasn’t the best weapon a man could ask for, but it would prove lethal enough in a pinch. “It looked inviting from the outside.” Then, taking a risk on the man’s current state of inebriation, Connor asked as casually as he could, “Not much around here does. Do you know any better places for a man to put his feet up? I was hoping to find somewhere closer to the Estate District. I hear that’s where all the important people congregate.”

That earned him a snort. The man took a large gulp of his drink. A pronounced flush was riding his high cheekbones now. He was probably drunk. “There are better places in the city. Trust me.” But maybe not drunk enough to spill any information he might have heard. “Though you don’t have to listen to me. What do I know? Go wander around. You might stumble over something yourself.”

Connor bit the inside of his cheek. “There’s a curfew, isn’t there?”

“And?”

“And,” Connor said, “why would I tell you anything that might make you think I’m breaking it?” 

Gavin laughed, the sound low and warm. He swirled his ale in the mug and pounded it back like he’d made this a habit that wasn’t worth breaking. “You really aren’t from around here,” he said once he had come back up for air. His dark, tired eyes locked with Connor across the bar. “If you think the watch gives two shits about something like that, you’ve got a lot wrong about Dunwall and her priorities.”

Connor’s eyes widened in surprise. “Should you really be telling me something like that?” It wasn’t professional, and it definitely didn't inspire much confidence in the city’s governing force. Of course, knowing what Connor did about this city’s idea of justice, he couldn’t be that surprised. His hand tightened around the stem of his mug. “It’s not exactly good practice to downplay your work, especially to a stranger.”

When Gavin grinned, the corners of his eyes crinkled. It’d be a warm look, but the way he glowered down at the dregs of his drink made the expression more rueful than pleasant. “Yeah? And what do you know about work,  _ stranger? _ ” His eyes slicked over Connor, taking him in closely. They lingered on Connor’s coat, then down at his boots. “You’re dressed too finely to be sitting in this shithole, drinking this swill. But you’re not a noble, are you? You can’t be if you’re drinking here.”

“What makes you think that?”

“Beyond the obvious fact that you’d be shut up behind closed doors drinking with rich friends if you were?” Gavin gestured vaguely at Connor’s body. “Everything you’re wearing is new. It’s not fancy, not showy, but those boots on your feet aren’t broken in and you’ve got a weapon on your hip you’re familiar with but not practiced with. It’s new.” He paused, letting the barkeep fill his tankard from a pitcher. He took a bracing swig before continuing on. “You’ve come here for something specific, a purpose in mind. Where are you from? Sure as shit ain’t here. Tyvia maybe? You look too pale to be from Karnaca.”

Connor sputtered. “That’s a little rude.” It wasn’t his fault he had always been kept inside, tending to his studies. He’d been tan when he was a child, Nines too. “Not everyone is sunkissed in Karnaca. Someone has to take care of the bookkeeping—”

“So, you  _ are  _ from Karnaca.”

Connor stilled. He glanced at the man sitting at his side. He was grinning again, and this time it touched his eyes. “And a bookkeeper, huh? What’s a pencil-pusher like you doing with a weapon on your hip like that?”

This was getting a little too pointed for Connor’s taste. What was his goal? He had to have one, talking like that. Should he go? Leave? It would be a pain to look for other lodging for the night, but if this man knew he was staying here, it could mean trouble. Of course, if he left the bar there was nothing to stop this man from following him to the next either, or worse. Connor was tired. He’d run across the city and strained his gift enough for one night. If he found himself cornered, any fight that followed would likely not end in his favor.

Even a glance at Gavin added credence to that idea; the man was bulky beneath his uniform. He didn’t need to show off his muscles to look threatening. It was in the way he held himself, the way he looked at Connor confidently. He was a man who could hold his own, and Connor, like he’d said, was only a cursed bookkeeper.

“I don’t think that’s any of your business,” Connor said crisply. Better to shut him down now. “Do you talk to every person you see sitting alone in bars like this? I’m not on trial. What does it matter to you?”

“You’re tight-lipped. It’s suspicious.”

Connor narrowed his eyes. “Since when has it been suspicious to want my business to remain my own?”

Gavin shrugged lazily. “Who knows? It’s been a weird night. Lots of strange people have found themselves on the streets lately. Being honest might prove your intentions pure. You never know…”

Did he… Was he suggesting something? Connor surreptitiously glanced around the room, checking for some kind of clock to tell him how long it had been since his fevered flight from that estate’s study. It was possible Gavin had been informed of the robbery. Perhaps… it hadn’t been the best idea to leave the stolen ledgers and letters on the seat beside him. He should have hidden them somewhere. He should have bought a fucking bag.

“Sounds like you have your work cut out for you,” Connor said tightly. 

Gavin chuckled. “Well, not me specifically.” He set down his tankard and leaned back in his seat. “I’m off duty, so what do I care?”

If this were a trap, it wasn’t a particularly good one. At least, that’s what Connor wanted to say. Gavin was… very disarming. This entire attitude of his… Connor wasn’t about to say anything to him, at least, not more than he’d already accidentally given away, but it would be easy to talk to him. Maybe that was his intention. Either way, Connor had to give him credit for getting this far with it. 

“You don’t like your job very much, do you?”

Laughing again, Gavin looked at Connor from beneath his lashes. “This city is a cesspool and I get the lucky job of trudging through it in the same pair of boots every night. You tell me.” Gavin’s attention fell away from Connor as Miranda swayed back into view. “Another, please.”

Connor reached into his pocket on a whim, bringing out some money. “It’s on me,” he said, and Miranda’s brow rose towards her hairline. Connor managed a slight smile for Gavin’s surprised frown. “For all of your hard work, Officer. Since it seems like no one else is going to say it to you.”

“Heh. I’ll drink to that.” If Gavin looked at him with new consideration, Connor ignored it easily, tapping his tankard against Gavin’s once Miranda had it topped off once more.

Their conversation was idle and meaningless after that. Connor finished his drink, waved down Miranda, and bid Gavin goodnight. He didn’t bother to stand on ceremony with it either. He had a feeling they would be seeing each other again, if not in here, then out there.

After all, there was work to be done, and plenty of it. ****

**Author's Note:**

> check me out on twitter for more of me and my work @tdcloud_writes or check out my original content on my website tdcloudofficial.com! leave a comment to let me know wat you think, and as always, until next time!


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